


Scorch

by niawen



Category: Assassin's Creed, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: M/M, vampire bs, vamprism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 13:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1689821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niawen/pseuds/niawen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I take no responsibility for this.  Tried to write two things I hate (crossovers and vampires) in a way that doesn't suck as an exercise.  Malik gets himself a nasty case of vamprism and Altair must correct it before Malik decides that he would make a good meal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scorch

Altair slid from the saddle easily despite the weight and bulk of the heavy armor he wore and the multitude of weapons strapped to his person. He turned immediately and lifted his arms to the cloaked figure sitting on the back of his horse and made to lift the person to the ground. He was met with a flinch and a vicious, feral hiss and Altair pursed his lips in mild irritation. “Let me help, don’t be difficult.”

“This is your fault,” the voice snarled back, and it was pure venom.

Altair sighed quietly to himself. “Do we have to get into this again?” he asked quietly, his arms still extended as though to coax the other rider down. “I’m doing everything I can, you know I am. I will fix this.”

The wrapped figure seemed to consider this and after a tense second, the person slid their legs off the horse and slid off, pointedly ignoring Altair’s proffered assistance. The figure nearly crumpled when his feet hit the ground and Altair quickly took hold of him and began walking him into the small, rocky crevice where they would presumably rest for the night.

“I don’t need your help!” the cloaked person snapped angrily, but almost before the words had left his mouth he tottered and nearly collapsed- Altair’s arm was strong and supportive and it did not let him fall. “Goddamned sun,” he hissed ungratefully. “If we could just travel at night this would be substantially easier!”

“Malik, I told you why we can’t. Here, sit in the shade and rest,” Altair muttered quietly, his patience draining as he lead Malik into the darkness of the little cave, trying to support him as fully as possible.

“Get your hands off me; I’m not a fucking invalid!”

Altair pursed his lips but did not say anything, leaving Malik to make himself comfortable as he stepped back out into the waning sunlight to tether the horse and take some of their supplies out of the saddle bags. When he returned Malik had finally pulled the overlarge cowl from his head for the first time since they had left that morning. Malik was pale and his skin was pallid and grayish under his dark complexion. Altair pursed his lips tighter in worry but did not question his health or comfort. He set to work immediately on building a small fire, eager to break into their rations after a long ride.

Malik shifted irritably, as though searching for more complaints or orders to throw at Altair, clearly enjoying the sight of him scrabbling to appease him when he was already knocked down. “Explain to me again why we can’t travel at night, Altair,” Malik demanded in an unnatural, vicious hiss. “I can’t take travelling in the sunlight, even with your stupid idea of wrapping me in a cloak.”

“Malik, I already told you,” Altair said in something of a huff, as though he’d already explained this many times. “Imperial patrols, nocturnal animals, fucking dragons now, apparently… We need to travel during the day, so I can protect you-“

Malik let out an angry hiss but Altair looked over his shoulder at him and shook his head in exasperation. “I don’t need your protection,” Malik snapped immediately. “And in case you hadn’t noticed, I took that dragon out almost single handedly.”

“Yes, Malik. I was there,” Altair muttered. “But the problem was that you went completely batshit crazy afterwards, in case you don’t remember. The smell put you in such a bloodlust that you tried to attack me and then when I tried to pin you down, you nearly tore off into the woods. So no. Now we do this my way and you’re just going to have to put up with it until we get to Solitude to find an alchemist that wouldn’t mind putting together a cure for your new problem.”

“This is your fault!” Malik barked angrily for the umpteenth time that day. 

Altair pursed his lips, noting that as the sun set over the mountains to the west, Malik was slowly but surely growing a little more energetic, and this worried him a little. “I said I was going to fix it and I am. We need to travel during the day so that we run into fewer problems. The fewer problems we run into the fewer opportunities there are for you to lose your shit and go running after buxom village women in the dead of night.”

“That isn’t funny!”

“Malik, look,” Altair began again, watching Malik bristle with fury. “So you got a nasty case of vampirism, no big deal. I just have to get you to Solitude in one piece and without you killing me or driving our bounty up high enough to put the Hold on alert.”

Malik’s single hand shot out of the cloak and clenched in the straps crossing Altair’s broad chest. Altair was caught off guard by the lightning fast movement and the inhuman, brute strength behind the grip that pulled him irresistibly closer. “Don’t you dare make light of this, you son of a bitch!” he snarled, and his tone was so bestial it cut off Altair’s natural penchant for arguments. “You were the one who decided we needed just a bit more haul. You were the one that found that stupid cave. You were the one who was all cavalier about stomping down the corridors in your stupid, clanking armor into a fucking coven of vampires!”

“I didn’t know-“ Altair began heatedly but Malik jerked him roughly and it cut him short.

“I didn’t know!” Malik repeated in a skilled but distinctly mocking imitation of Altair’s deep voice. “I never thought about what might happen if I clank down this passageway and knock my stupid scabbards into every god damned surface imaginable!”

Altair knew where this was going and he tried to circumvent it. “This is fixable, Malik,” he said, struggling to keep his calm. “Just try to-“

“Unlike some other, unfixable incidents, Altair? How many times are you going to bullrush into something dangerous before you realize that you’re not just putting yourself in danger!?” Malik hissed.

Altair frowned and Malik released his grip and shoved him away in the same motion. Malik’s hand twitched and he raised it to his left shoulder before he jerked in anger and brought it to his neck as though to rub out the tension. Altair knew what the movement meant and he averted his eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry,” Altair said a little stiffly, and he turned away after a second, fiddling unnecessarily with the fire.

Malik might have felt a slight flash of regret at the words but couldn’t bring himself to take them back or apologize. He’d forgiven Altair, he reminded himself, and the man had changed so much and shown so much regret for what had happened. Malik pursed his lips irritably and rubbed at his tired, burning eyes roughly. “Just fix it, Altair. I don’t want to be stuck like this… I’m exhausted and weak from riding during the day, I can’t eat anything…”

Altair turned to face him again. “I will. You know I will. I would fix it now if I could mix a potion worth a crap.”

Malik smirked a little and leaned back. “I’m fucking starving,” he said idly without thinking.

The other man frowned thoughtfully. Malik had tried to eat some of their rations just before dawn and they discovered that he simply could not stomach them. In fact, the taste was so repulsive, Malik’s body nearly refused to swallow the mouthful of stale bread despite his desire for food. Altair knew what he needed but he also knew that if Malik drank blood, with the sun nearly set, he would be at full strength. And full strength in Malik’s current predicament was something Altair had to admit (however grudgingly) he couldn’t handle. If Malik got too wild or succumbed to his bloodlust, he might shoot off into the darkness for more victims or else try to kill Altair, and possibly manage it.

They were quiet for a long, long while. As darkness fell completely around them, Malik perked up considerably and seemed much more energetic. It unnerved Altair a little, but he’d never admit it so he kept his mouth firmly shut. In the darkness, Malik shed his makeshift cloak and shifted restlessly by the fire, his eyes alert and overbright in the flickering light. Altair wasn’t sure what exactly what was setting him off, but something about Malik’s slowly worsening vampiric status put all of his instincts on high alert. He didn’t look any different, his body didn’t feel any different- except for the coldness to his flesh- and yet, Altair was on edge on a dark, dim, instinctive level. “Do you want to try stomaching some of our food again?” Altair asked tentatively, after a long, silent while. Malik turned and frowned a little, watching Altair rummage through the pack with unnaturally sharp eyes.

“No, it was horrible. My throat just sort of… closed up at the smell,” Malik muttered, his temper fading slowly but surely. He felt more aware now that the blinding, burning sun had set and he shifting restlessly as Altair quickly pulled out a piece of dried meat and stuffed it into his mouth. Malik could not help but watch as Altair unbuckled his heavy plate armor piece by piece. Malik had always found Altair’s movements to be one of the more fascinating aspects of him, though he usually tried to keep this from the man. Altair had a way of moving that was irresistable to watch and Malik found even the smallest motions capturing his wandering gaze. For one, Altair was a fairly graceful person, even for a man so strong. He was powerfully built, muscular and tall with a broad chest and a long, lean body but he was sinewy and lithe, not bulky or heavy. He was fast too, even though he preferred heavier armor and arms than Malik’s riveted leather pieces. There was no question that fully armed, Malik was faster and stealthier, but Altair had the brute strength and tenacity of any frontline warrior and without his equipment he was agile enough to foster something of a competitive streak in the pair of them.

Malik had worked with what he called ‘tanks’ before, and they tended to stomp around dungeons and set off traps and were generally useful only for standing behind when some mage or another got his feathers ruffled and started firing lightning bolts at them. Malik shook his head. Even though he had accused Altair of clanking around in that vampire coven, he knew that what had actually happened was a little less of Altair’s fault than he wanted to admit. They had been mocking each other in good fun under their breath, the tension between them building and building until Malik finally pushed enough of Altair’s buttons to make him turn around and push him into the wall, lips and sharp teeth descending on his own... And then they had both barged out into that open chamber, Altair’s arm still coiled around Malik’s neck and their lips barely parted when they’d been surprised to find themselves in the company of a surprised group of vampires.

He licked his lips absently, still watching as Altair slid out of his breastplate and opened up his shirt in an effort to cool off. Malik had to admit, Altair was like an animal… it wasn’t exactly fair to call him stupid but he preferred to express himself with actions over words and when it came to the way he quite nearly coveted Malik, well, the one-armed man admitted that he didn’t quite mind the extensive discourse even if he tried to dissuade Altair of his misplaced ideas of possession or ownership.

After the incident that had cost Malik his arm and his eventual absolution, Altair had grown unbearably protective and downright possessive of Malik. He got jealous easily and seemed to think that Malik needed his help, which he always denied when he was confronted, and he acted like an overgrown guard dog at generally every opportunity. Malik did what he could to discourage this behavior, but he was forced to admit that when he let Altair fuck him he wasn’t doing the situation any good. He couldn’t quite help it though… Altair possessed a feral, insatiable hunger that drove Malik's arousal to uncontrollable heights despite his best efforts. 

Altair dropped his armor on the ground and stretched luxuriantly, tired from a long day on the road and looking forward to only a few scant hours of sleep. He exhaled, resigned to a sleepless night keeping an eye on Malik before he realized that said companion was watching him closely with predatory ochre eyes. Altair stared back helplessly, somehow caught like a hare being stared down by a snake. He could feel the hunger radiating off of Malik, he could see it in his intense expression. His lips parted, and he wanted to say something but his throat seemed to freeze.

Malik didn't understand how he knew, but it was somehow apparent to him that Altair was trapped. Malik hadn't meant to do... whatever it was he was doing but now that Altair was watching him raptly and seemingly unable or unwilling to break the eye contact. Malik's eyes slid down to where he could see Altair's pulse fluttering in his throat and his whole body tensed in need, his brain painting an intoxication image of red, pumping blood oozing from tanned, punctured flesh.

He was leaning closer before he realized what he was doing and he gasped, pulling back in horror at how easily he'd almost succumbed to the desire to bite Altair. He broke the intense contact and Altair seemed to come to his senses, panting shallowly. They were both quiet for a long moment, as they seemed to consider what had almost happened and they both tried to catch their breath.

"M-malik," Altair stuttered quietly, his voice a little breathy. "Are you okay? You need some... some kind of sustenance or you're going to get even weaker... aren't you?"

Malik pursed his lips. "You said yourself that the blood lust was too much for me," he said slowly, shaking his head. "I don't want..."

Altair moved closer, grabbing Malik's shoulder and pulling the collar of his shirt away from the curve of his own throat. "You need blood. I... can help."

Malik groaned, his hand curling tightly against Altair's wrist but he stopped himself, his chest beginning to heave. "Knock it o-off," Malik growled, incapable of pushing Altair away, practically able to smell Altair's blood. "I won't be able to c-control myself."

Altair didn't let Malik discourage him and he straddled Malik's lap, insistently crowding against him and removing his shirt entirely. "You need it. You'll stop after you take what you need," Altair assured him with a confidence he didn't exactly feel. "You have to be strong enough to make it to Solitude and I can withstand a bite or two."

Malik heaved for breath, arching impatiently. He groaned frustratedly but couldn't offer a coherent protest, his breath growing more ragged with each second spent in this excruciating closeness.

"Malik, just pull away when you're done... you're plenty strong enough," he growled lowly. He wrapped his arm around Malik's head and twined his fingers in his hair, tugging his face towards the curve of his bare shoulder. "It'll be fine."

Malik's face pushed up against the warm slope of Altair's throat and his lips parted automatically. He tried to resist but the smell and feel of a live body beneath him was far too much for him. He groaned and bit down, his hand tightening so hard around Altair's wrist that bruises blossomed under his fingers. Altair hissed in pain but didn't struggle, writhing a little nervously under Malik's mouth. He stilled as best as he could, panting shallowly as Malik sucked deeply and groaned urgently. Malik’s hunger was completely apparent and he let out more noises of urgent relief as the seconds crawled on. Altair’s fingers tightened in Malik’s hair, dizziness swooping down on him and making his eyes nearly roll back into his head as Malik continued to drain him.

There were several long moments of tense, swooping disorientation for Altair as he felt himself grow weaker and weaker under Malik’s inescapable bite. He faintly knew that Malik was drinking deeply and that he needed to stop or risk permanent harm... Altair was helpless to pull away, the hand on his wrist like an iron shackle. His fingers tightened weakly in Malik’s hair and he groaned helplessly; a noise Malik answered in his own hungry tone.

“Ma... Ma-lik,” Altair gasped a little weakly.

Malik did not want to pull away, the taste and feel of blood in his mouth was too much... he felt Altair’s hands tighten in his hair and struggled with himself for a moment. There was a second where they both seemed to hold their breath before Malik gasped and wrenched himself away, nearly toppling backwards.

Altair fell bonelessly with him, his light eyes rolling as he crumpled against Malik’s chest, the bottom of his throat bleeding a little. Malik threw one of his arms around Altair’s shoulders and flipped them around, straddling Altair’s waist and watching his eyelashes flutter as he seemed to regain himself.

“Altair,” Malik hissed urgently, the taste of his blood still pungent and fresh on his tongue. “Altair.”

The man beneath him lifted his hand clumsily. “M’fine,” he slurred. “You didn’t... didn’t take too much.”

Malik breathed a sigh of relief and bent down to drag his tongue over the two incisions in Altair’s neck, still bleeding sluggishly. “Reckless idiot.”

“Do you feel better?”

“Much. Does that worry you?”

“No. You’re not frothing at the mouth like a wild animal. Maybe I can get some sleep tonight.” Altair smirked back slowly, still pale and shivery under the cool evening air and Malik’s lack of body heat.

Malik merely grunted in agreement, heat throbbing in his body at the flavor and ecstasy of drinking fresh blood. “You’re warm,” he said gruffly, not sure why he noticed the small detail. 

“You’re not,” Altair sniffed a little haughtily.


End file.
